The Final Perdition
by Labrys
Summary: No one is safe from the world. Not even the prominent family of the Dumbledores, and for once, the playing field is left even.


_Through all the corners of the world_  
  
_All was present and correct_  
  
_Until Adam's Ale_  
  
_went agianst the grain_  
  
_to raise cain_  
  
_and the baker's dozen cried_  
  
_'For ever and a day, flesh and blood, hasten to the four corners of the earth!'_  
  
_And then generation X fell from grace_  
  
_for the pommy gave them Hobson's choice_  
  
_the die has been cast_  
  
_and Joanna played on.'  
  
- Prophecy by Labrys - _**  
  
Chapter One:** Present and Correct  
  
**1970**

The dark room held little, the brief ray of sunlight that penetrated through the nearly blackened window, the slow drip drip of water falling from ceiling to stone, the stale, cold air. It was a dungeon, one that was large enough to have an echo.  
  
In the room sat one long table, a large high-backed chair sat at the head of the oak table. A broad, grated fireplace was fixed behind the chair, where a faded, circular rug could be made out. Along the table were rows of rickety wooden chairs with no arm rests, some had chunks taken out of the back. The only two that weren't marred, and had the proper arm rests and seat cushions, were the ones on either side of the high-backed chair.  
  
Along the wall in the cold dungeon were glass showcases, where shadowed objects could be seen leering from the dark. An occasional odd noise would be heard reverberating off the walls, and a large armoire stood just next to the heavy door.  
  
On the walls hung portraits of a middle-aged man, whose good looks never left him. The dark hair that never seemed out of place, the superior blue eyes. The sculpted face with a strong jawbone and nose. This man that sat in the paintings. He watched the room with suspicious looks, sneering at any that passed.  
  
Faintly, the sound of metal boots against stone could be heard echoing in the hallway just behind the door. The sharp, click click was precise and driven. Shorter, more impressionable strides were heard quietly behind the dominating click.  
  
The door swung open on rusty hinges moments later, the squeal of rusty iron floated to their ears. In the doorway stood the very same man who watched the room from the portraits, yet there was something different about him.  
  
The man in the portrait only stated that he was conceited, self-absorbed, and confident. The man standing in the doorway exuded intelligence, fear, confidence, and something else. Something any man wished for.  
  
He seduced those who followed behind him. Him with his straight back, high chin, superior smirk, glinting eyes, and sharp heels. He was what every man that stepped into that room wanted to be - and what every woman who stepped in that room wished to have.  
  
Behind him walked a man with dark hair and unyielding eyes, whose cold expression said he'd do anything to get what he wanted. Next to him stood a woman. A woman with hair as black as the darkest night, and eyes as light at the afternoon sky in summer.  
  
Moments later, the man and woman were seated on either side of the high-backed chair, the tall man in the portraits sat in the head chair. Any other person entering sat in a chair that they seemed to be familiar with.  
  
"My," the man said, once the room was void of any noise but the dripping water. "What a wonderful day it is, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Of course, Master," the woman said, her smile was anything but innocent.  
  
"Yes, and what shall we do to celebrate such exquisite existence?" No one said anything, but stared avidly at their Master. "We shall bring down those who are holding our purpose back, we will bring down the king in his own fortress."  
  
The excitement in the room silently swelled, while not one word was spoken, the emotions twisting in each person could be seen in their wild eyes. The yearning, the hope, the want.  
  
"We will bring him down by using him against himself," Master looked at the blank faces group in front of him, who seemed ready to do what he asked. "We will take everything that is dear to him."  
  
"His family, Master?" A man near the middle of the group asked, his voice questioning, but nearly quivering with excitement.  
  
"Did I say you could speak?" Master asked calmly, a hint of steel behind the neutral words. The mans eyes widened considerably. "I will let it pass only this once, you are excited, aren't you?"  
  
"Oh yes, My Lord."  
  
"We will start with Aberforth Dumbledore." Master frowned, narrowing his eyes. "The old bastard wouldn't expect it."  
  
The smirks appeared around the table, and the entire room seemed to darken. A hissing sound was found near the high-backed chair, the Master seemed pleased with this and reached down. A large snakes head appeared on the table, and the Master hissed at her. The room watched.  
  
The snake headed down the table after a moments pause, she seemed to ponder each person as she went, her large body taking up the entire table.  
  
"Nyoka is hungry," And the Master grinned.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------  
  
**Bee Manor**  
  
A large two story house with a rotting porch and a broken porch swing had never once caused the towns people much thought. They passed by, looked at it, wondered and went on their way, often worried that they had left their oven on.  
  
There were always stories about the old yellow house, but none of them seemed to be completely true, nor completely remembered. The towns people knew it was there, but the local boys never threw rocks at this houses windows like they did the other abandoned houses. They seemed to forget that they held pebbles in their hands, and merely let the rocks drop to the ground as they remembered a forgotten ice cream in the freezer. It had been this way for years, since any one person could remember.  
  
The house down Alberry Lane had a falling picket fence, an over grown lawn, and broken windows with shutters hanging on by their last hinges. The front door was crumbling, the walkway was cracked, and an old rotting tire swing on the large pine tree in the front yard.  
  
Once, a few years before, real estate workers had came in an attempt to find the value of the land the old, rickety house sat on and if it was worth tearing down and building a-new. They found that they couldn't remember if they took any pictures, tests, or ground samples when they left the premises of the house. Often, they would forget why they were even on the overgrown ground.  
  
Not one person ever made it to the front door, not even to the porch.  
  
Inside though, the house was ravishing. If you stared at it long enough, ignoring the reminders of the oven, washing machine, or iron, you'd see a faint shimmer of something happen around the house. If you stared even longer, you would finally see the old house that wasn't even worth a pound fade and become what seemed to be a mansion that just couldn't possibly fit in that overgrown yard.  
  
You found a large, bright yellow mansion with sparkling windows, white porch and a matching porch swing. A new tire swing and a cut lawn. Though in the lawn were mowed images, many were of animals, some were planets and even the moon.  
  
Not one Muggle had the will to do this, and so not one found the real house that lay beyond the wreak that it looked like. This home is known to many as Bee Manor - the home of the Dumbledores.  
  
That night though, figures with dark cloaks were thought to be glimpsed in the dark woods by the muggles, but were passed off as large fleet footed animals.  
  
Two cloaked men stood off to the side of the artistic lawn, peering into the windows.  
  
Inside there was a tall man with a short wiry white beard and glittering eyes that hid behind a pair of large square metal spectacles. He was laughing and bending down and standing up and bending down and laughing and making faces and bending down and standing up.  
  
The two men glanced at each other and sniggered; the rumors of the old coot had been true, he _was_ a mad hatter.  
  
Suddenly, they found the mad hatter swinging around a small child, looking only a month old, cradled in his arms. A womans laughter could be heard elsewhere, somewhere close.  
  
The first Death Eater nudged his companion. "Did you hear that?"  
  
"The woman?" the second one asked, seemingly quiescent. "There weren't supposed to be any other people here."  
  
"I think Master will be pleased."  
  
The two men looked once again through the window before creeping off into the night. They disappeared into the forest, their dark cloaks blending into the darkened wood.  
  
Inside the house, a woman with curly brown hair and a soft smile sat on a red sofa in the middle of a nearly vacated and deprived room. In it were only the sofa, a vibrant green love seat, a white bureau with blue, red, and black splatters painted on it, a twine rug that sat in front of a pitted fireplace with no mantel but was instead surrounded by a wicker device.  
  
Standing just off to the side was an older man, maybe in his sixties, he was holding a tiny child with a wisp of black hair and large brown eyes. The man that was holding her seemed jovial, the wrinkles that creased his forehead only made him seem so much more funny. His spectacles were tilted to the side, and his hair was uneven, not even his clothes matched.  
  
"How is Cygnus doing?" the old man asked, looking to the woman, who shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"All right, not as much business as usual, but it's only winter." she replied, grinning as the child drooled on the old man's robes, who didn't seem to notice.  
  
"And yourself?"  
  
"Oh, you know how those people are - work, work, work." The woman rolled her eyes and stood up and taking the baby, who the man seemed to have forgotten and was letting slip. "No time for a rest, I don't think they even remembered that I gave birth just last month. Just because I have energy potions available doesn't mean I'm well enough to stay up till two in the morning correcting _their_ mistakes."  
  
"You know, I think I might have to buy myself a goat..."  
  
"A goat, father?"  
  
"Oh yes, a white one with horns - I think that shop in Diagon Alley may have them. Do you?" The woman seemed untroubled about the abrupt change on topic, for her father did it often.  
  
"No, I don't think Diagon Alley would market goats but you might try some places in Hogsmeade." she explained, smiling at the baby as it cooed. The old man frowned.  
  
"Why must the school limit children? Why can't they bring goats and grasshoppers?"  
  
"Grasshoppers?" The woman laughed and rolled her eyes, walking from the room. The old man watched her progress until she was well out of sight, but could still be heard blabbering to the baby.  
  
----------------------------------------------------  
  
A harsh lighting fell into the dungeon, the slurp of water sloshing in a twirling glass penetrated the room. A hiss now and then; only when the fire crackled would it come.  
  
A lone man, dressed purely in black with a mask under his left arm entered the room and bowed before the chair that faced the fire.  
  
"Yes?" It was the same confident man as before, the one whose portraits glared at the man standing in the middle of the room.  
  
"We went to Bee Manor, My Lord. The old man wasn't alone - "  
  
"What do you mean he wasn't alone?" The man in the chair turned suddenly, the chair creaking on springs in need of oil. The bright, blue eyes on the man in the chair darkened as they narrowed.  
  
The man standing swallowed hard; his adams apple bobbing painfully.  
  
"There was a woman and a baby, My Lord." the man's voice quivered, his hands tightened around the white shell under his arm, attempting to still his quaking body. It didn't help that his Master was staring quite deliberately at him.  
  
"Oh, and this woman and child - who were they?" the Lord asked calmly, resuming the smooth twirl of his wine glass. He sat back into the chair and stared at the man, who took a deep breath.  
  
"We believe it's his daughter and grandchild, My Lord." the man said, shifting his eyes to the rug in front of the hearth, were a coiled snake watched him through slanted eyes.  
  
"Oh? Are you positive about this?" The Lord leaned forward in his chair, apparently eager to know, but calm enough to exude control.  
  
"Fairly, My Lord," And the Lord frowned.  
  
"Fairly? Is it so impossible that you cannot confirm the relationship between three people?" the man snarled, the snake hissed, and the fire spit. The standing man flinched, bowing his head.  
  
"No, My Lord." he said, his voice quiet and submissive.  
  
"Of course not," The Lord flicked his wrist, a thin wand suddenly appearing and whipping through the air like a whistle. He whispered one word - '_abdico_' - and the man before him crumpled to the ground, clutching his left forearm, his own spittle leaking on the floor. The Lord flicked his wrist one again, and muttered '_Finite Incantatem,_' and the man stilled, his breathing harsh and sparse. "Now are you positive?"  
  
"Y-Yes, My Lord," the man gurgled out, his face red with blotchy white spots, his hands shaking, his entire left arm that was visible stark white.  
  
"Good," The man in the chair swiveled back toward the hearth, where the slosh slosh of wine against glass could be heard, mingled with barely controlled gasps and scratches. A few minutes later, the Lord's mouth quirked upward in an horrible rancid version of a smile. "We shall destroy them all, and then everything will be as it should." 


End file.
